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MacColin of Glenderry


For internal documents.
3. The Brig O' Stirling
5. General Taylor
6. The Minstrel Boy
7. The Soldier's Song
8. Mairi's Wedding
9. Grat for Gruel
10. Farewell to Fiunary
11. Gun Runners
12. The Parish of Dunkeld

We also have Janet's ClanSamhain2.pdf book of lyrics for Samhain ready for print, and an HTML versionthat works on a smart phone.


Lift MacCahir Og your face brooding o'er the old disgrace
That black FitzWilliam stormed your place, drove you to the Fern
Grey said victory was sure soon the firebrand he'd secure;
Until he met at Glenmalure with Feach MacHugh O'Byrne.

Ch.: Curse and swear Lord Kildare
Feagh will do what Feach will dare
Now FitzWilliam, have a care
Fallen is your star, low
Up with halbert out with sword
On we'll go for by the lord
Feach MacHugh has given the word,
Follow me up to Carlow.

See the swords of Glen Imayle, flashing o'er the English Pale
See all the children of the Gael, beneath O'Byrne's banners
Rooster of the fighting stock, would you let a Saxon cock
Crow out upon an Irish rock, fly up and teach him manners.

From Tassagart to Clonmore, there flows a stream of Saxon gore
Och, great is Rory Oge O'More, sending the loons to Hades.
White is sick and Lane is fled, now for black FitzWilliam's head
We'll send it over, dripping red, to Queen Liza and the ladies.


(FINE GIRL YOU ARE!) (shouted!)
1. Adieu to you my Ireland, a thousand times adieu.
We're going away from the Holy Ground and the girls that we love true.
We will sail the salt sea over, And then we'll turn for shore,
To see again the girls we love and the Holy Ground once more.

You're the girl I do adore,
And still I live in hopes to see
The Holy Ground once more

2) I see the storm arising, I see it coming soon
And the sky it is so cloudy you can scarcely see the moon.
And the good old ship she was tossing about; the rigging was all tore.
And still I live in hopes to see the Holy Ground once more


3) And now the storm is over and we are safe on shore.
We will drink a toast to the Holy Ground and the girls that we adore.
We will drink strong ale and Porter and make the rafters roar.
And when our money is all spent we'll go to sea once more.


The Brig O' Stirling
Doon by Stirling Brig, the Wallace lay in hiding
As the Englishmen, frae the south came riding
Loud the river Forth, between them baith was gurling
Gurling oot o' sicht, below the Brig O Stirling

Watching frae the wood, the Wallace and the Moray
As the English Cam' wi' the Earl O' Surrey
Ane by ane they crossed, a' the brig was filling
Still they onward cam' o'er the Brig O' Stirling

Wallace gave the shout, oot his men cam running
Stopped the English host on the Brig O' Stirling
Cressingham turned round, the brig was sma' for turning
Moray cut him down on the Brig O' Stirling

All the English men ran intae each other
Nane could turn about, nane could gae much further
Some fell o'er the side in the Forth was drowning
Some were left tae dee on the Brig O' Stirling

Surrey he was wild, could nae ford the river
Wished wi' all his mecht that the brig was bigger
Then he rade awa, loud the man was cursin'
He'd lost a' his men, and the Brig o' Stirling.

For to see Mad Tom of Bedlam
Ten thousand miles I traveled
Mad Maudlin goes on dirty toes
For to save her shoes from gravel.

Still I sing bonny boys, bonny mad boys
Bedlam boys are bonny
For they all go bare and they live by the air
And they want no drink or money.

I went down to Satan's kitchen
For to get me food one morning
And there I got souls piping hot
All on the spit a-turning

My staff has murdered giants
My bag a long knife carries
For to cut mince pies from children's thighs
And feed them to the fairies

The spirits white as lightening
Would on me travels guide me
The stars would shake and the moon would quake
Whenever they espied me

And when that I'll be murdering
The Man in the Moon to the powder
His staff I'll break, his dog I'll shake
And there'll howl no demon louder

General Taylor gained the day
 silver spade,  shroud silk
 golden chain,  link we carve
 all the go, stormy winds dont blow
  dead and gone, long

The Minstrel Boy

The Minstrel Boy to the war is gone
In the ranks of death you will find him
His father's sword he hath girded on
And his wild harp slung behind him
"Land of Song!" said the warrior bard
"Tho' all the world betrays thee
One sword, at least, they rights shall guard
One faithful harp shall praise thee!

The Minstrel fell! But the foeman's chain
Could not bring that proud soul under
The harp he lov'd ne'er spoke again
For he tore its chords asunder
And said "No chains shall sully thee
Thou soul of love and brav'ry!
Thy songs were made for the pure and free,
They shall never sound in slavery!

The Soldier's Song

We'll sing a song, a soldier's song,
With cheering rousing chorus,
As round our blazing fires we throng,
The starry heavens o'er us;
Impatient for the coming fight,
And as we wait the morning's light,
Here in the silence of the night,
We'll chant a soldier's song.

Soldiers are we whose lives are pledged to Ireland;
Some have come from a land beyond the wave.
Sworn to be free,
No more our ancient sire land
Shall shelter the despot or the slave.
Tonight we man the gap of danger
In Erin's cause, come woe or weal
'Mid cannons' roar and rifles peal,
We'll chant a soldier's song

In valley green, on towering crag,
Our fathers fought before us,
And conquered 'neath the same old flag
That's proudly floating o'er us.
We're children of a fighting race,
That never yet has known disgrace,
And as we march, the foe to face,
We'll chant a soldier's song


Sons of the Gael! Men of the Pale!
The long watched day is breaking;
The serried ranks of Inishfail
Shall set the Tyrant quaking.
Our camp fires now are burning low;
See in the east a silv'ry glow,
Out yonder waits the Saxon foe,
So chant a soldier's song.


Mairi's Wedding
cho: Step we gaily, on we go
Heel for heel and toe for toe,
Arm in arm and row on row
All for Mairi's wedding.

Over hillways up and down
Myrtle green and bracken brown,
Past the sheiling through the town
All for sake of Mairi.

Red here Cheeks as rowans are
Bright her eyes as any star,
Fairest o' them all by far
Is our darlin' Mairi.

Plenty herring, plenty meal
Plenty peat to fill her creel,
Plenty bonny bairns as weel
That's the toast for Mairi.

Grat for Gruel
There was a weaver o' the north
And oh, but he was cruel;
The very first nicht that he got wed.
He sat and grat for gruel.
He widna wint his gruel,
He widna wint his gruel.
The very first nicht that he got wed.
He sat and grat for gruel.

There is nae a pot in a' the hoose
That I can mak' your gruel.
Oh, the washing pot it'll dae wi' me.
For I mun hae ma gruel.
For I mun hae ma gruel.
I canna wint ma gruel.
Oh the washing pot it'll dae wi' me.
For I mun hae ma gruel.
There is nae a spoon in a' the hoose
That ye can sup your gruel.
Oh, the gairden spade it'll dae wi' me.
For I mun hae ma gruel.
For I mun hae ma gruel.
I canna wint ma gruel.
The gairden spade it'll dae wi' me
For I mun hae ma gruel.

She gaed ben the hoose for cakes and wine,
She brocht them on a towel ;
Oh gae awa, gae awa, with your fol-de-rols.
For I mun hae ma gruel.
For I mun hae ma gruel.
I canna wint ma gruel.
Oh gae awa, gae awa, with your fol-de-rols.
For I mun hae ma gruel.

Come all young lasses take my advice
And never marry a weaver;
The very first nicht that he got wed.
He sat and grat for gruel.
He widna wint his gruel.
He widna wint his gruel.
Oh, the very first nicht that he got wed,
He sat and he grat for gruel.

Farewell to Fiunary
The air is clear the day is fine, and swiftly swiftly flows the time
The boat is floating on the tide that wafts me off from Fiunary

We must up and and haste away, We must up and and haste away
We must up and and haste away, farewell, farewell tae Fiunary

A thousand thaousand tender ties awake this day my plaintive sighs
My heart within me almost dies, at thought of leaving Fiunary

ChorusBut I must leave those happy vales, see how they fill the spreading sails
Adeau, Adeau my native dales, farewell, fairvell tae Fiunary

Gun Runners
Buying powder fron the Dutch
Trading for our goods and such
Buying Spanish arms along the Main
Persuded by sailors from the West
An English ship, no doubt the best
But we'll make sure their efforts are in vain

Put our backs into it, lads,
We'll head into the wind
The English will be nay to use their sails
and we'll be safe on Irish lands
And put our guns in Irish hands
Long before they reach the coast of Wales

Across our bow the cannon fire
It only raises up our ire
Our archers fire arrows full of flame
A couple arrows hit their mark
Their mainsail's lighting up the dark
And now their ship is slowing down again


Their captain fights the fire on deck
But it's now use, their sails are spent
We'll leave the Englich bastards far behind
Their vessel's speed is such a farce
It should be called the "Leaden Arse"
Instead of being dubbed the "Golden Hind"


The Parish of Dunkeld
Oh, what a parish, a terrible parish.
Oh, what a parish is that of Dunkeld.
They hanged their minister, drowned their presenter,
dun downed the steeple and fuddled the bell.
he steeple was downed, bu the Kirk was sill sandin',
The bigit a lum where the bell used to hang.
A still po they got and they brewed Highland whisky
On Sundays they drank it and ranted and sang.

Oh, had you but seen how graceful they took it,
To see the crammed pews so socially joined.
MacDonald the piper stood up in the pulpit.
He made the pipes skirl, out came music divine.
With whisky and beer they would cures and they'd swear,
They's argue and fight your darn ya will tell.
Ah, but Georddie and Charlie they bothered Furellie
With whisky the worse than the devil himself.

When they high in spirits, had mounted their garrits,
To a fesh [feis] on the green they did all adjourn.
The maids with coats kilted, they skipped and lilted
When tired they shook hands and then hame to town.
If the Kirks all o'or Scotland held like social meetin's
Nay warnin' you'd need from a far tinkling bell.
For true love and friendship would drar you together
far better then roarin' the horrors of Hell.

cho: I'll tell my ma when I go home 
The boys won't leave the girls alone 
They pulled my hair and they stole my comb 
But that's alright 'til I go home.

She is handsome she is pretty 
She is the belle of Belfast City 
She is courting 1, 2, 3,
Please won't you tell me who is She?

Here she comes as white as snow 
Rings on her fingers and bells on her toes 
Oh Johnny Murray he says she'll die 
If she doesn't get the fellow with the roving eye.

Let the wind and rain and the hail blow high 
And the snow come tumbling from the sky 
She's as nice as apple pie 
She'll get her own boy by and by.

When she gets a lad of her own 
She won't tell her ma 'til she comes home 
Let the boys stay as they will 
For it's Albert Mooney she loves still.